The Woods

Deep within the trees, heavy and lush,
perches a patch of fungus on a moss-covered trunk
basking in the sunlight, a crimson they blush
they cling to the tree that is underground sunk

While squirrels whip their tails as they scutter,
Not far away, an icy stream floods,
As a butterfly elegantly flutters
from wet rock to flower, landing on a leaf-bud

A lone bee twirls, sweetening the honey,
While their maple tree continues to rot,
a couple of humming bumblebees
float, pollen-full toward the buzzing knot

As I am the only passerby,
Within my heart, this image I sanctify.